Resolve
by AlithiaSigma
Summary: Based on Zarla's Handplate comics. Gaster finds himself heavily conflicted, even after all he has done. It seems he has yet to purge himself of his "selfish sentimentality."
1. Chapter 1

"Your broken eye does me no more good than it does you, you know. It's very inconvenient."

1S grabbed the sides of the chair, glaring at its creator with his one good eye.

"inconvenient-"

The doctor continued, paying no heed to the test subject's outburst.

"Physical damage is one thing, but impaired eyeglowing opens up a whole new host of potential emotional problems to deal with." He tilted his head slightly and looked at the smaller skeleton's functional eye. "...And, as you've probably gathered, emotions aren't my strong suit."

1S was taken aback.

"...did... you just make a joke?"

Gaster smiled at 1S's bewilderment, amused by how surprised it was. Did it really think he didn't have a sense of humour?

He finished calibrating the matix and turned it on.

"Now stay still and try to relax. It should be relatively painless at this intensity. Then as time goes on-"

The machine surged as 1S' skull exploded in a burst of magic and bone, knocking the older skeleton onto the floor. He stared at Sans, sockets wide as the edges around the explosion began to turn to dust.

"No, no NO!" he shouted, getting up and placing his hands on the skeleton. He poured every ounce of healing magic he could muster. It wasn't enough. He was dying. He was dying. Dust was spreading. He couldn't save him. His soul thrummed. His eye flashed a multitude of colours, frenzied, panicked.

"This wasn't supposed to happen." He wrapped his arms around the dying child, instinctively drawing him closer to his soul, and squeezed his eyesockets shut. For that moment, in the silence of the lab, with only the faint hum of powered machines, it felt as if they were the only monsters in the entire underground. He failed them. "I'm sorry..."

Why was he doing this? He knew he lost his ability to... heal...

The skeleton squirmed in his grasp. He let go and looked down at it.

No.

This couldn't-

It stared up at him, seemingly as surprised as he.

How-?

It can't-

He looked at the test subject as if it had just stabbed him in the chest.

"wha..."

Gaster ran out of the room and locked the door behind him.

He clenched the doorknob, distraught. He thought he'd put this behind him. That the two skeletons were _things_ , not monsters. Tools to be used for the good of monsterkind. The keys to breaking the barrier. Meant to be useful, and nothing more. His creations. Nothing more than useful, valuable possessions.

And yet as Dr. W.D. Gaster tried to convince himself that the skeletons that he had marked and labeled as his belongings and refused to care about meant nothing more to him than his laboratory equipment, it felt wrong to him.

He knew what it took to heal someone. A strong constitution was important, but as with all magic, for monsters, at least, nothing can be done without intent. A genuine desire to help, care for, tend to someone was central. And he didn't _care_ about the test subjects. They were only things to him. Important and valuable things, but simply valuing a thing wouldn't allow one to mend it.

But, for that moment, 1S was...

No. It was nothing more than a fluke. A lapse in judgement brought upon by the suddenness of the explosion. He would remain objective.

He steadied himself, straightening his posture and opening the door. He focused on what he needed to do.

He had to stay determined.


	2. Chapter 2

1-S couldn't remember a time he felt so uncomfortable. Pain was familiar. Fear as well. But this drawn-out, agonizing silence... It wasn't the momentary quiet that came when he'd managed to catch the doctor off guard, nor the comforting silence of sleeping with his brother in the dark. It was tense and suffocating.

The doctor barely looked at him even while he set up the many devices meant to monitor his vitals and condition. He didn't even give 1-S commands as usual, such as "Sit here" "Keep still" or "Lower your arm and clench your fist repeatedly until I tell you to stop." Instead, the doctor just pointed and made quick hand motions. There was no banter, and 1-S felt wary of breaking the silence.

He wondered if it had something to do with the last time the doctor brought him out. The doctor explained how the matrix was going to work, then there was a painful explosion and everything went black. He remembered feeling a warmth before waking up. Something that reminded him of holding his brother close, of wanting him to be safe and happy, and yet was vastly different. It felt like the pillow he and his brother had torn up ages ago. Pulled apart and scattered into a mess, stripped of coherence. It felt... nice, and for that moment, he wanted to bundle up that niceness and make it a single whole. He knew where it came from, but it simply wasn't possible. It just couldn't be.

He didn't really tell his brother about it. He didn't really know what to say about it other than that the scientist had tried to fix his eye, there was an explosion, and it didn't work. He couldn't figure out what had happened, and he didn't want to think about what it meant. What he felt had happened, what he felt, what he knew, deep down, was true... was impossible. Impossible things don't happen.

He looked up at the doctor and caught the scientist looking at him with an expression 1-S could only describe as... frightened. The doctor quickly looked away.

The combination of curiosity and the need to escape the oppressive silence urged him to speak.

"what happened?"

He saw the scientist grit his teeth before glaring at the monitor in front of him. For a moment, neither moved, and 1-S was regretting having spoken up.

"The matrix overloaded your skull and exploded. I was forced to repair you." His words were crisp and surgical.

1-S wasn't convinced. The scientist was keeping something from him, and if he wasn't mistaken, was struggling to do so as well. This was unusual. The doctor was typically blunt and straightforward, speaking to them with the same attitude as if he were writing notes to review later. This sounded strained, forced.

He looked at the doctor skeptically. The doctor ignored him.

Without looking at him, the doctor motioned for 1-S to get up. 1-S complied. The doctor motioned for 1-S to leave the examination room. 1-S complied. The doctor led him down the hall back to his cell, seeming as aloof as he could muster. He motioned 1-S into the cell, deactivating the bars for just long enough for 1-S to enter before leaving and turning off the lights behind him.

"BROTHER..." Of course, his brother stayed awake, waiting for his return. His eyes glowed a comforting, familiar orange.

"yeah?" 1-S glowed his eye back at his brother, the two of them casting eerie shadows in the room.

"DID YOU..." His brother looked confused and a little concerned, but not upset. "DO SOMETHING TO HIM?"

"wha...?" Before he could ask what his brother meant, his brother explained.

"HE'S BEEN ACTING DIFFERENTLY. I'M... WORRIED ABOUT HIM." The first time 2-P heard the word "worry" was when he'd been told to stop worrying about 1-S when he was kept losing focus on an extended test. Of course, he asked him what it meant, and of course, the older skeleton explained it to him. The scientist seemed to like explaining things.

1-S gave a disbelieving noise. "why? he doesn't care about us."

"BECAUSE I KNOW HE CAN BE GOOD!" He held his brother close. "AND HE CAN STOP HURTING US AND HE CAN TAKE US OUTSIDE. WE'LL BE HAPPY AND HE'LL BE HAPPY TOO AND WE'LL ALL BE HAPPY TOGETHER. THAT WILL BE THE BEST THING."

1-S closed his eyes. "i don't think he's..." His thoughts were drawn back to that feeling, the magic that happened between the explosion and waking up. In those moments, the scientist who didn't care about hurting them, who only thought of them as _things_ and not people, was gone. Just a monster who wanted, needed him to be alive, to keep him safe. A person who couldn't bear to lose him. A skeleton filled with equal parts regret and determination. It just couldn't be him.

 _But it was._

"...brother?"

"YES BROTHER?"

"i think... maybe... maybe you're right..."

* * *

 **A/N:** Why can't I make longer chapters of this? Why do all the perfect spots to end the chapter happen so soon after the start?

Welp. If you haven't read Handplates, you should. Zarla's comic is wonderful torment. Pretty sure she's okay with people making fics of her fics, since she's actually shared some on her blog.


End file.
